
SWIMMIN' 




"The Pegassus of Woodstock stands 
forever waiting at the market place." 



"What, are you a poet?" 

" ' Ardly that, young sir, 'ardly that ! " said he, rubbing his chin. 
"No, 'ardly a poet, p'r'aps, but thereabouts. My verses rhyme 
and go wi' a swing, which is summat arter all, ain't it?" 

Perigrine's Progress, by Jeffery Farnol 




"Down river from the 'lower bridge'— say fifty rods 
or less 



Was the swimmin' place we called 'Dace Hole' 
same as now, I guess." 



the 



COIN' SWIMMIN' 

DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 



KARL A. PEMBER 



^ 



WOODSTOCK VERMONT 

1892-1922 






C^.wV 



V 



WHY IT'S DONE 

I mean, why these humble verses of the most modest of our modern 
poets appear again after they have once exposed themselves in the 
pages of the Vermont Standard. The reason is that I liked the stuff ; 
perhaps chiefly because I so much enjoyed the memories they called 
up of my own goin' swimmin' in days far back of '92, and called for 
their reappearance. 

There was another reason. I wished for a chance to prove to my 
native friends that I can do this sort of thing far better than the Author 
of These Verses. The proof lies in these two stanzas; which I wrote 
myself : 

/ also can remember quite as well as Karl A. Pember 
The glories of the swimmin' holes of days of long ago. 

And I ask your kind attention while in verse I briefly mention 
Things older and far better than that youth K. P. can know. 

For example, prophylactics, certain sure and easy tactics 
To prevent that awful seizure by the cramp in water cold ; 

And the funny ceremonies, enforced by all their cronies. 

On boys who got their clothes off last— but some things can't he told! 

Is it not good stuff? I will dare to let the patient reader answer. 
Having exalted my horn I hasten to be modest, according to my nature, 
and to say that I wrote these stirring lines right after K. P's first sec- 
tion appeared ; that I intended to outdo K. P. and was sure I could; that 
it was my purpose to cover the ground thoroughly, omitting nothing ; 
that inspiration failed me straightway; that while I was spending hours 
counting out new and awful lines and rhymes on my fingers ( the only 
way I knew to get the meter right ) K. P. appeared again in the Stand- 
ard; and then I saw at once that while mine was the loftier flight, his 
was the more sustained and that his genius was putting fire to my rub- 
bish heap of detail. 

In conclusion : the Pegasus of Woodstock stands forever waiting at 
the market place; and all who will may mount and try to fly. Two 
natural born cloud piercers have shown how it is done. 

J. C. D. 
Newark N. J. October 1922 



[5] 



COIN' SWIMMIN' 



"Backward, turn backward, 
O Time in your flight! 
Make me a boy again. 
Just for tonight." 

I 

In story books and magazines we very often see 
About the good old swimmin' hole there always 

used to be; 
Though most of us have visions — a dim and hazy 

crop 
From the second-hand department of Memory's 

dusty shop — 
And feel a thrill of pleasure while calling it to mind, 
Still, wouldn't that "ole swimmin' hole" be rather 

hard to find? 
Before we all forget it and lose the chance to see, 
I want to tell you young folks just where it used 

to be 
And how we used to get there and what we used 

to do 
When the fellers went in swimmin' back in eighteen 

ninety-two. 
There was more than one "ole swimmin' hole," like 

graded schools you know. 
Where little chaps and middle-sized and bigger 

boys could go: 
Our play was not yet organized — we hadn't any 

rights, 
And we didn't use the "Mill Pond" 'cause "you 

had to put on tights"; 
[7] 



"The Branch" was quite available and so was old 
"Dace Hole," 

And "The Bend" a place to thrill with joy most 
any swimmer's soul. 

The girls could go in wadin' by themselves or with 
their Mas 

But swimmin' then was done by just us boys — with- 
out our Pas, 

And we didn't have to ask our folks to buy us bath- 
in' togs. 

We just went in as naturally and bare as any frogs. 



II 

"The Branch" was where the little fellers mostly 

used to go 
(And that was part of what we call the Kedron 

now, you know) 
Without a house to bother us on either side the 

brook 
From Cross Street Bridge to Townsend's Farm, and 

people couldn't look 
Nor interefere with all the fun we had in that 

small pool 
That was thickly populated most the time we 

weren't in school. 
A narrow well-trod pathlet turned and twisted 

'long the crest 
Of the bank just eastward of the stream to where 

we all undressed, 
And led us to a clear cold pool 'bout twenty-two 

feet wide 
And thirty long, with sandy bottom sloping from 

the side; 



[8] 



The depth was quite conveniently "just up to here 

on me" 
And the whole presided over by a leaning willow 

tree. 



Ill 

The Cross Street Bridge was wooden then and led 

to Tink Day's shop, 
And all was peaceful out beyond — hay was the 

only crop — 
And Townsend's Farm has now become the Country 

Club to you 
And Golf and Maple Streets and all have grown 

since ninety-two. 
To find the spot exactly where this small pool used 

to be 
Take forty paces southward from the present fourth 

hole tee, 
And though it won't look occupied just as it used 

to there 
With the ground around the edges all matted down 

and bare, 
Still you'll have seen an humble spot once known to 

boyish fame 
Quite worthy of this monument to memory — ^just 

the same. 
Down river from the "lower bridge" — say fifty rods 

or less 
Was the swimmin' place we called "Dace Hole" — 

the same as now, I guess, 
Behind the Tann'ry buildings where the South 

Branch empties in 
Was a first rate pool 'bout shoulder deep, but ston- 
ier than sin, 

[9] 



And though perhaps you'll know the place beyond 

the slightest doubt, 
It's back of Mass's greenhouse and the saw mill 

(just sold out) : 
I took my first few swimmin' strokes right there 

in that same pool, 
And a prouder kid you never saw inside or out of 

school. 
It wasn't the most sanitary place to swim 'twould 

seem 
For the outlet from the Tann'ry reached the river 

just upstream. 
And chance encounters now and then with horns 

and bits of hide 
Enlivened the engagements and enhanced the 

gentle tide: 
This place was very popular with all us kids because 
'Twas a grade above "The Branch" hole and the 

handiest place there was, 
And 'twas plenty far away enough from folks a- 

passing by 
To save offence to e'en the passing tribute of an eye ; 
For mind you, as I said before, we weren't a lot of 

prudes, 
And fellers that wore "swimmin' trunks" were 

classified as dudes. 

IV 
Now let me just assure you that the very best of all 
By way of good old swimmin' holes that I can now 

recall 
Was "The Bend" — Ah, what a place that was to 

please the genus "boy" 
And fill his young aquatic soul with seven kinds of 

joy: 

[101 



"The Bend", compared to all the other swimmin' 

holes around 
About the same as College does to Prep Schools, I 

have found; 
And after graduation from "The Branch" and "Old 

Dace Hole" 
The ultimate achievement of "The Bend" might 

thrill your soul. 
Where was "The Bend" you'd like to know? — Let's 

see if I can tell, 
It seems as if I might because I used to know it 

well : 
You went down to the depot and followed 'long the 

track 
And scrambled down th' embankment — on your 

feet or on your back — 
Then followed on by Washburn's Brook clear to 

the river bank 
Along a narrow little path through June grass thick 

and rank. 
Then down along the riverside beyond the upper 

end 
Of a row of ancient willows till at last you reach- 
ed — "The Bend"; 
You ducked between two willow stumps and there 

along the shore 
Were most commodious quarters for a dozen boys 

or more. 



V 

The ground all 'round about the place was very 

smoothly trod. 
The work of many pairs of feet a-pattering on the 

sod; 

[11] 



The willows made a perfect screen from grown-ups, 

I suppose, 
And also furnished hanging space for all the fellers' 

clothes ; 
The bank was high, the water deep and clear and 

fine and warm. 
And the plunge therein was dandy — if it wasn't in 

good form ; 
The pool was big and plenty deep for all the tricks 

we knew 
From soundin', treadin' water, and all the program 

through 
To swimmin' like a frog and under water, on your 

back. 
And divin' in so many ways I really can't keep 

track. 
But "The Bend" can never more be used for divers 

swimmin' joys 
By the present day contingent of the brotherhood 

of boys, 
For the sewer of the village now pollutes this 

fabled stream 
And the dump is just above it — so there's only 

mem'ries dream 
To preserve the old time glory of the things we used 

to do, 
And note the old traditions of the boys of ninety- 
two. 



VI 

I wonder if they're doing now the very same old 

stunts 
We used to do in ninety-two, when we were little 

runts, — 



[12] 



Most likely not, — ^they're probably much more 
efficient now 

Than in the days I speak of when we were learning 
how: 

The tall grass tied across the path to trip the 
hurrying tots, 

The arms and legs of shirts and drawers tied up in 
double knots. 

And after you'd persuaded some new kid to duck 
his head 

And try to hear some crazy thing upon the river bed 

To whack two stones together underneath the sur- 
face blue — 

He'd sure believe he'd heard it and his head was 
busted too ; 

And divin' in on top a kid you'd just shoved off the 
bank. 

The rising moon — the light-house — and many an- 
other prank, 

All ending up a-hurrying to get your cap on first 

And yelling "King" and all the rest down to the 
very worst : — 

Without a doubt the kids now'days have quite an- 
other lot; 

The trouble is there's nobody to tell us what is what. 

And doubtless too its just as hard to get your hair 
all dry 

Before you see your mother when you've "been in" 
on the sly. 

VII 

Say — any of you fellers know the old time swimmin' 

sign? 
A signal of the brotherhood the grown-ups couldn't 

"jine"; 

[13] 



Your first two fingers spread apart and held up 
in the air 

Meant "the gang is goin' swimmin' — you're invited 
to be there." 

'Twas a summons unmistakable that any boy would 
know 

And join the aggregation if his folks would let him 
go. 

Gee whiz! but don't I wish that there was some- 
thing I could do 

To roll the years way back again to eighteen nine- 
ty-two, 

And through the eyes of boyhood as the youthful 
vision clears 

To get a glimpse of fellows that I haven't seen for 
years, 

And with the swimmin' signal a joyous message 
send 

To all the boys I used to know to meet me at 
"The Bend". 



[14] 



And furthermore . . . 

VIII 
Of course we all have heard about the game of "Three-ole- 

cat", 
Its elements consisting of us boys, a ball and bat. 
Well — we boys played it hereabouts in eighteen-ninety-two, 
But we called it by a better name, and, what is surely true, 
A shorter, quicker, cleaner one — we always called it "Scrub", 
Just why I cannot tell you — tho' I wish you'd tell me, bub. 
But never mind, "What's in a name", "The Play's the Thing", 

you know. 
And the modus operandi is the same where'er you go. 
Sometimes when five or six of us were "hangin' 'round", 

that's all. 
From some mysterious sources would appear a bat and ball; 
"Scrub One! !" would yell the first to think, and then, "Scrub 

Two! !"— "Three! !"— "Four! !", 
And on — a number to a boy until there were no more; 
Then, after hot adjustments of who'd yelled each number first 
By means of fists and arguments, for better or for worst, 
"Scrub One" would be first batter — ^tho' sometimes there'd 

be two — 
Then catcher, pitcher, basemen, in the order that they drew. 
With no limit to the fielders but the number of the boys 
That happened to be present to enjoy the fun and noise. 
The game progressed — you bet it did! — progression was its 

yield; 
When a kid got "out" he had to take the last place in the field 
And everybody moved up one — each had his little chance 
To pitch and catch and everything and 'round the bases dance. 
And that's the very reason why I liked the game of "Scrub", 
For as a base ball player I ranked as just a "dub", 

[15] 



And I heard the cry, "Let's choose up sides!" with very keen 

regret, 
Which happened when the crowd increased beyond the limit 

set; 
For well I knew the fellers that could play the game first rate 
Would get the good positions, while me they'd relegate 
To the harmless occupation of a passive, poor "right field", 
And a "Hey! let Smithy bat for you!", — Alas! my fate was 

sealed. 
We didn't have a play-ground the same as you boys do, 
'Cept just around the school-house, back in eighteen ninety- 
two, 
The folks were pretty good to us and let us use the street, 
Bi.it when we got too thick or broke a window, we'd retreat 
To a place behind the Christian Church or back of Jones's 

Block, 
Or Hazen's lot, or Tribou Park or — Say! Now here's a shock! — 
When driven to extremities — the whole world out of tune — 
I've seen some ripping ball games on a Sunday afternoon 
In the small and peaceful valley just behind our old Mount 

Beg; 
But I'd hate to have you tell 'em that I told you. Don't I beg ! 



IX 

The carnivals and winter sports of nineteen twenty-two 
Are a wonderful improvement o'er what daddy used to do. 
Now skiis are quite magnificent — you buy 'em at the store 
All varnished up and painted in a hundred styles or more ; 
But in the early nineties if you yearned to slide on skiis 
You procured two worthless barrel staves and nailed two 

straps on these, 
And instead of what's referred to as a "ski-bob", so they say, 
We made a dandy "jumper" in a very simple way, 

[16] 



By nailing to a barrel-stave a stick of stove-wood small 
And then across the top of that a board — and tbat was all. 
These didn't show much speed or class, nor boasted trophies 

won, 
But provided entertainment and heaps and heaps of fun. 
When the snow was soft before the paths were beaten for our 

sleds 
And the traverses and double-runners kept us from our beds 
Those moonlight nights on Hartland Hill (where you could 

slide a mile), 
On Jaquith's and on Watkins' and on College for a while. 
And now and then on Billings', and the best of all the slides — 
Old Church Hill with its bumpers and the legendary rides 
Of fellers that had slid clear down to High Street — honest fact, 
When the hill was glare, the ruts just right, and the giant 

Town-sleds packed. 
We skated joyfully about on places now denied; 
The "Oil Pond" back of Sayward's dam so greatly raised the 

tide 
That we could skate way up the Branch, and many a little rink 
Dotted the meadows on each side where now you'd scarcely 

think 
Such things could possibly have been in eighteen ninety-two; 
But T assure you just the same that they are very true. 
Late in the Fall the Mill Pond furnished skating very nice, 
(I've been 'most up to Johnson's dam on good old thin black 

ice), 
Pogue HoJe and Perry's Eddies helped our jolly skating days 
And cheerful nights attended by a bon-fire's ruddy blaze. 
And that reminds me of the times we had to stay inside 
All gathered 'round the roaring stoves during the eventide. 
There weren't so many furnaces around here then as now 
And more of us burned wood than coal you'll certainly allow. 
Why — four-foot wood was five a cord delivered in your yard 
And you bucked it up yourself, by gum, and thought it mighty 

hard. 

[17] 



But anyway, what fun we had a-swapping postage stamps 

To put in our collections, beside the old oil lamps. 

And selling 'em from " 'proval sheets" and hunting through old 

chests, 
They do it now without a doubt — it's fun that stands the tests. 
Comparing Tewk's collection with Hal's, or maybe mine; 
And this applies to birds' eggs and tobacco tags so fine 
That we all collected ; some of us e'en cigarette cards chose 
Obtained from Sweet Cap smokers — sure, you just ask Dad, 

he knows. 
There were coin collections, wood collections, almost every- 
thing 
Collectable — obtainable — a-trundling home we'd bring, 
'Till, I suppose, the patience of our parents was worn out 
By the various collections that we couldn't go without. 
Of course we'd go to parties where we'd have a lot of fun 
But generally speaking we were glad when they were done, 
While Dancing Schools and Parties that were given by the girls 
We wished that we could relegate to boys that still wore curls. 
But, speaking of society and such negotiables 
Say! didn't we have fun though at the "Congo" Sociables! 



'Most all the games we used to play are 'bout the same as now. 

The underlying principles aren't different anyhow ; 

The game of "Henuary" has its counterpart today 

Though the details may be handled in a slightly altered way, 

"Hi-Spy" and "Hide and Coop" and "Hide and Seek" are all 

the same 
When played today or yesterday by whatsoever name ; 
Considerable excitement would attend "Duck-on-a-Rock'* 
And "Marbles"— "big" and Little Ring", "Plain", "Pug" -and 

"Chase" and "Clock"; 



[18] 



There was 'Tag" of all descriptions, "Plain", "Wood" and 

"Cross" and "Squat" 
And "Hare and Hounds" and "Prisoner's Base" we used to 

play <a, lot ; 
The noble game of "Leap-Frog" was indulged in by the cubs 
(A higher form was called the short and ugly name of 

"Dubs"), 
"Follow- Your-Leader", "Fox and Geese", a hundred others too 
All helped to pass the time away in eighteen ninety two. 
Now, most of these required a most careful "counting out" 
To hit upon the first one to be "it" beyond a doubt. 
Using oabalistic phrases, "Eeny meeny mony my" 
Close followed by the awful, "Paskalainy bony stry", 
And then one stated, "Arrago", and "Jarrago" came next 
And "out goes you" or "Y-O-U" according to the text 
Or the fixed determination to evade the god of chance 
By the one who did the counting with his index-finger lance 
And to keep the final syllable from pointing straight at him 
And causing him to be "it" first instead of me or Jim. 
So, what I want to know is whence this incantation came 
So powerful that it could change the gender and the name 
Of the boy its spell was cast upon by transformation fit 
From a husky male Tom, George or Dick to just a neuter "it". 



[191 



UENVOI 
1922 

I sit and write these jingly lines and visions come and go 

Of the fellows and the places and the times I used to know. 

My wife sits by the table and the children play right near 

And the past and present pictures are most wonderfully dear. 

The boys are mostly scattered from the scenes of ninety-two 

But I have been a stay-at-home, and all that I can do 

Is to urge a retrospection of our early boyhood days — 

And as I dream my eyes get sort of covered with a haze — 

"The Missus" asks the cause of my involuntary sighs 

By a slight interrogation from the dearest pair of eyes 

That ever yielded gladness to a man of forty-plus 

With the maximum of comfort and the minimum of fuss; 

A moment's lift of tousle-heads of kiddies on the floor 

And the past and present mingle as they never did before. 

No, I wouldn't change the old days nor the present ones, I 

ween, 
But if I could I'd change some roads I've traveled in between. 
Its just as natural as can be for me to ask for you 
The age-old prayer of fathers with the hope it may come true, 
God grant you smoother passage through the intervening years 
Than I have had, my children, and with more of smiles than 

tears. 
As you tread the hopeful pathway from the land of now to 

then, 
And as good a start and finish as I've had thus far. Amen. 



[20] 



THE ELM TREE PRESS 
WOODSTOCK VERMONT 



ilBRARY OF CONGRESS 

■illlllM 

018 349 367 A I 



